Not By Choice
by Anya2
Summary: Set after the end of 'Dalek'. Having faced the toughest decision of his life, the Doctor begins to doubt if he's really qualified to make them at all.


**Title: **Not By Choice  
**Rating:** T  
**Spoilers:** Anything up to and including 'Dalek'  
**Set:** Tag scene after the events of 'Dalek'  
**Pairings:** Hinting at 9thDoctor/Rose feelings

**Author's Note:** Okay, they're going to have to stop putting these extremely shippy moments in the episodes if there's any chance of me getting my other fics completed…

This is dedicated in thanks to Jillybean and Sparks whose drabbles for this episode have kept me amused all day. Nice writing guys.

* * *

"Right," Rose said, pointing down the corridor, "You go down there, up the set of stairs at the far end, not the near set, yes? At the top, take the first left, second right and it's the blue door. Not the green door, okay?" 

Adam looked mildly concerned, "Why? What's behind the green door?"

"The greenhouse."

"That doesn't sound exactly terrifying."

"Apparently some of the plants eat people."

"Oh. Okay, blue door it is then."

Rose watched him go, checking he took the correct set of stairs. She didn't think he was a total idiot, but the inside of the TARDIS was a big place and it would be easy for him to get lost. Once she was sure he was at least heading the right way she turned on her heels and walked off in the opposite direction.

As soon as they had left Van Statten's museum, the Doctor had put the TARDIS on autopilot so to speak, leaving it wandering slowly through a safe part of space. He said he needed to record what had happened with the Dalek in the TARDIS's databanks as it may be of some use later. Rose couldn't imagine why – the Dalek was dead. The last of its kind. The look in the Doctor's eyes had asked her not to question that however and so she had let it go. For now.

Adam was predictably excited, if a little confused by events. But although the Doctor always seemed to revel in her own excitement, he just seemed to be irritated by the young man. To his credit though he was trying hard not to let it show. Not one to tempt fate, Rose had suggested that she help Adam find a room. A grateful Doctor had handed her a couple of books about different alien species which he said ought to keep their new travelling companion occupied for a while.

When she returned nearly half an hour later, a fascinated Adam tucked away reading, she had found the Doctor just standing there, starring blankly at the console. She'd barely ever seen him so quiet. He had looked haggard, with sunken, dull eyes. For the first time since she had met him he looked significantly older than her. The ordeal had taken it's toll on him.

Noticing her presence, he had shaken himself out of his stupor and quickly announced he was going to get some sleep and that she should do the same.

He had left without another word.

Sleep? She didn't think he'd done that since they'd met.

Wandering back to her own room, Rose had laid down for a good long while but found there was too much stuff still running round her head for sleep to be a possibility. It wasn't the nearly dying - no, disturbingly enough she was getting sort of use to that by now – it was some things the Doctor had said. Some she had said. Some stuff she'd done.

Not liking where her thoughts kept leading, her she had decided that perhaps being on her own right now wasn't the best thing. Heading back to Adam's room, she had decided he wouldn't mind if she interrupted his reading. After all, she should really get to know him a bit better if he was going to be travelling with them for now. He had immediately smiled when she had entered his room, saying how pleased he was to see her. Rose had almost smiled back before he added that that was because he desperately needed the loo and couldn't find a bathroom.

So, having just pointed him on his way, she headed off to find the Doctor. Maybe he wasn't asleep after all. And if he was, she was sure he wouldn't mind her curling up on the chair in his room. It was better than nothing.

Reaching the door, her hand poised on the handle, she paused momentarily and a frown cross her features. Was he talking to someone? She could hear muttering. He sounded anxious.

Carefully she opened the door and peered inside.

She had only been in the room once before, to get him a new shirt when the one he was wearing had gotten covered in a thick orange goo. A result of accidentally stumbling upon the nest of a very angry, giant alien bird. Like her own room, it was sparsely furnished, but comfortable enough. The large double bed dominated most of the space, but Rose barely noticed it in favour of it's occupant, who was murmuring in an increasingly frantic manner.

Crossing the room quickly, she looked down at him. He was sleep, but hardly peacefully so, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed eyelids. He must be having some kind of bad dream. Which was entirely understandable considering the day that they had just had.

"Doctor," she said softly, reassuringly, "Wake up. It's just a dream."

When there was no response she reached out to touch his cheek lightly.

His eyes snapped open.

"No! Get away!" he shouted, sitting bolt upright, immediately awake, looking around wildly.

Rose jumped back as though stung. A sensible part of her was telling her she should run away right now, but her feet seemed in no mood to respond.

He sat there for a moment, looking totally confused, as if he had no idea where he was. He was desperately drawing in big lungfulls of air, as though someone had been choking him moments earlier. In the dim light of the beside lamp she could see he was covered in perspiration. Her eyes immediately zoomed in on the fact that his shirtless torso was also peppered in bruises. Moments later she dragged her gaze away, not wanting to make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

When his eyes eventually focused on her, he starred at her disbelievingly for a moment before he visibly sagged and placed his head in his hands. Moving slightly closer, Rose could see he was shaking. She had never seen him look anywhere near so vulnerable and it scared her more than she liked.

Moving closer still, she placed a tentative hand on the cool skin of his shoulder.

"Doctor? It's alright," she soothed.

"No. No, it's not," he muttered, head still in his hands, half talking to himself, "It's never alright".

Rose shook her head, not understanding him, "It was just a dream, that's all."

The Doctor's voice was soft, haunted. Far away.

"No, I don't have dreams. I don't even think I'm capable of it. But nightmares, those I do."

Rose starred at him, very concerned. She didn't even want to ask what the nightmare had been about. The expression on his face convinced her that she'd be better off not knowing.

"Look, stay here," she ordered, rather redundantly. He didn't look in much of a state to be going anywhere.

Heading to the adjoining bathroom, she turned on the tap making it run cold. She didn't think that a drink of water would solve all his problems but her mum had always brought her one when she'd woken as a kid, crying from a nightmare. It was weird and totally nonsensical, but it seemed to help. Maybe it was just the fact of knowing that someone cared.

Searching in the mirrored cupboard she found the other thing she needed. She was surprised to see it here actually, but somehow the TARDIS always seemed to know when to supply her with stuff. Pulling out a large piece of cotton wool and a bottle of witch hazel, she picked up the glass and headed back into the bedroom.

He hadn't moved an inch since she'd left him and she had to physically manoeuvre him into a fully upright position in order to get him to drink. He looked a bit sceptical as to why she thought that would help, but did it anyway.

Pouring a liberal amount of witch hazel onto the cotton wool, she sat on the edge of the bed next to him and moved his arms out of the way so she could get to his torso.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused but compliant.

"You look like you've been beaten up," she said shaking her head as she dabbed at the bruises as vigorously as she dared.

She paused to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Trust me, this stuff helps. I was always using it on Jimmy every time he got in a fight."

"Jimmy?" he asked, almost automatically.

"Old boyfriend," she explained, quickly brushing the matter aside. She shook her head in exasperation. He hadn't been a much better patient either.

"Why didn't you say something before?" she scolded softly.

He didn't answer, but Rose wasn't about to be put off.

"How did this happen?" she probed further, a slight hint of desperation in her voice. He looked just awful.

"Van Statten."

She immediately remembered what he had had those scientists doing to the Dalek and her gut twisted. If he had found out that the Doctor was an alien too…

Rose felt sick and there was a long moment of silence as she diligently washed the liquid over every last bruise. It wouldn't get rid of them but it should make them heal quicker.

Once she was finished, she stood up, crossing to the bin and dumping the cotton wool in there. Then she took the glass and bottle and went back to the bathroom. Placing the witch hazel back on the shelf, she emptied what water he hadn't drunk down and sink and put the glass back meticulously where she had found it.

The moment she re-entered the room, he finally spoke once more.

"Why don't you hate me?"

His voice was soft, desperately confused and slightly afraid. His blue eyed gaze pierced straight through he, searching for an answer.

"Eh?" she asked frowning, worried by the tone of his voice, let alone what he was saying.

"I was going to let you die back there," he explained, struggling to get the words out, "Why don't you hate me for it?"

She paused. She hadn't really even though about that. Yes, he had knowingly shut her in with it, but it had never even crossed her mind to blame him, much less hate him for the action. Even though she probably should just a little.

She looked up, starring straight back at him.

"If it had been the other way round, if you'd been running for it and my finger was on the button-"

"Don't say you would have done the same thing," the Doctor said, disgusted with himself, shaking his head.

"No," she said with sharp honesty, "I wouldn't. I would have waited until you were through. I would saved you at all costs."

The Doctor looked away, no longer able to meet her gaze.

"And I would have been wrong," she continued, bluntly, "I would have let it out to save one person and millions of others would've died."

"You don't know that for sure," he pointed out, glancing back at her.

"Course I do", she said with a slightly annoyed scowl, "I was down there with it. I saw it carving it's way through those people like they were nothing. You had no reason to think it would stop if it got out."

She moved closer to him again, sitting on the end of the bed, "I'm not like you. I'm not brave enough to make those decisions but you are. It's what you do."

She paused, that thought ringing a bell.

"Do you remember what you said to my mum?" she asked, "When we in the cabinet room? About your life – you said it's standing up and making a decision because no one else will. You had to do it. I know that."

His face had gone stony and hard, "Just because I make the decisions, it doesn't mean I'm right."

"No," she agreed, thinking briefly about Gwyneth, "Not always, but you don't make them lightly and you're trying to do the right thing."

He suddenly stood up, moving away from her, facing the wall. His words were angry. Resentful even.

"Well, maybe I'm tired of making decisions over the lives of others," he spat out, "Maybe I'm tired of making impossible choices where someone always loses. I can't do it anymore Rose, and I should have to."

Rose stood up too, trying not to be angry at him.

"Yeah, well life is all about hard choices. Lesser people than you make them every day. You have this amazing gift that let's you see wonderful things and help people. You can't just waste it."

"It's not a gift, it's a curse," he retorted bitterly, suddenly angry at everyone and everything, "The curse of a messed up universe that's laughing at us."

He turned towards her challengingly, stepping up to her, towering over her. To her credit she didn't even flinch.

"Don't you hear it, Rose?" he pressed, resentfully, "Howling with laughter as it throws us one impossible situation after another. Watching to see how badly we screw up this time. Is it even worth saving? The kind of twisted place that makes a man choose between billions of lives and the women he-"

He checked himself just in time to avoid a supremely awkward moment. Taking a step back, he rubbed his hands down his face. Trying to take deep, calming breaths that didn't appear to be doing any good.

"I don't want it anymore, alright?" he said in response to her accusing glare, "It's not my job to play this game."

Is that what this was to him? Just a game? And because he was losing he wasn't interested in playing anymore?

No, it meant more to him than that or he wouldn't be so angry about it.

"I didn't ask for any of this," he continued, raising his voice and shouting at her like it was all her fault, getting angrier by the syllable, "I didn't ask to be the last of a dead race! I didn't ask to have to make these decisions on my own! I should have died with the rest of my people and let the universe get on with it!"

Rose's reaction was instinctive and immediate. She slapped him hard, not holding anything back. His head snapped away with a resounding whack.

He slowly looked back at her in shock.

"Don't you ever say that again," she commanded with a barely contained injured fury, tears staining her voice.

They starred at each other in a long, tense standoff. Then, without warning, she turned on her heels and headed for the door. It was too much. She had to get out of here.

His voice stopped her as though it had paralysed her inches from leaving. Even now, in this situation, he spoke and she had no choice but to listen. She slowly turned back to see him standing there, suddenly shaky on his feet.

"You're all I have left, Rose," he said in despair, trying to explain himself, "And I thought you were dead. Because of me."

"So did I," she admitted, not moving, her voice trembling. She'd been trying not to think about it much. About how she'd felt as she had stood there, waiting to die and realising that this time there was no Doctor at her side whose hand she could grab for comfort.

"Do you know what the worst part was?" she said, as if she herself was only just realising it, "I couldn't find the words to say goodbye. I couldn't think of anything important to say to you. Or I wanted to say but I couldn't figure out how."

"Rose," he murmured softly, her confession clearly cutting him to the quick. He slowly slumped to the floor, his legs seeming to lose all their strength. He lent back against the hard bed, starring at a spot on the ceiling.

"I've let too many people like you die," he said, with a heavy sigh and a troubled far away look in his eyes, "Too many to count. I let those soldiers face the Dalek, knowing it would kill them, that they couldn't beat it. I was so afraid of it getting out and I made a bad decision Rose, and nearly two hundred people lost their lives. Two hundred people with families, lives and futures that won't be. I don't think that those are the actions of a good man."

He looked down, ashamed of himself.

So this was what it was all about? He was doubting himself. Doubting if anything he did was right or if in the long run the universe would have been better off without him.

So, even Time Lords were idiots some times.

She walked over to him cautiously, moving down to kneel beside him.

"You breaking some dictionary definition nobody told me about?" she asked, with a slight trace of a smile.

He looked at her without answering.

"You know," she intoned importantly, "A wise man once said, 'a man is not measured by the result of his actions, but by the purity of his intentions.'"

The Doctor frowned, mildly intrigued, "Where'd you hear that?"

"Fortune cookie from the Happy Duck Chinese takeaway."

He smiled a little at that.

"There," she said, softly, greatly relieved, "That's more like it."

She paused, finding it hard to admit something she'd already been thinking. She took his hand in hers.

"Besides, all those deaths? They weren't your fault, you know? They were mine. I let it go. I helped it escape."

"You didn't know any better," he reassured, giving her hand a small squeeze, "You thought you were helping something in trouble."

"I was an idiot," she said bluntly, "It used me. And I'll definitely be employing a 'look but don't touch policy' with aliens from here on in."

He glanced at her, still holding his hand.

"Okay," she admitted, "Not all aliens."

She moved to sit beside him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. There was a long, companionable silence.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, entirely out of the blue.

"For what?"

"Shouting at you," he sighed, "I didn't mean… I'm just-"

"Look," Rose interrupted firmly but gently, "I don't even pretend I can understand everything that's happened to you, but I from what I can make out I think you're allowed to lose it a little every now and again."

There was silence once more.

"I'm sorry too," she piped up, her voice sounding shockingly loud in the quietness.

"What for?" he asked, perplexed.

"Back on the space station at the end of the world, I kept asking you about your people. Where you were from. Pushing you about it. Just one of those things was bad enough, god forbid a whole army…"

She shivered at the thought and he automatically slipped an arm around her shoulder, allowing her to settle into the crook of his neck.

"I can see why you didn't want to talk about it," she said, soothingly.

The Doctor sighed in resignation, "They're just a memory now, Rose. Memories of a war that never happened between two races that never existed. Except in my head."

"Maybe it's time to let it all become that," she pointed out, pragmatically, sounding older than her years, "A memory. You can't live your life in the past."

"Er...," he said with a mild trace of humour, waving his arms around, "Time machine."

"You know what I mean", she scolded with a roll of her eyes.

He sighed, shaking his head, "I can't just forget it, Rose."

"Probably not," she agreed, "But you can learn to live with it. You have to, right?"

He frowned, "Why?"

"Cos I say so," she said stubbornly, "Besides, have you ever thought that it might have been your destiny to survive?"

"I don't believe in destiny," he said firmly, "Or fate."

"I didn't think you would," she said with a small laugh, "I do though. And do you know what I see in your future?"

"What?"

"Bed," she stood up, holding out her hands to help him do the same, "Get in it and get some sleep. You're no good to me falling asleep at the TARDIS controls."

"Yes, sir," he replied with a mock salute. Getting wearily to his feet with her help, he slipped back under the covers, Rose reaching over and pulling the duvet up. It ridiculous really – a young human girl taking care of a Time Lord. But he didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was like she had been as a kid with nightmares, just needing to know someone cared.

Walking to the corner of the room, she dragged the large, heavy, rather worn chair over and sat in it. She kicked her trainers off and hauled her feet heavily up onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, eyes already closing.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – you're alone anymore."

"Shouldn't you be babysitting wonderboy?" he asked with a relaxed sigh, "If he breaks anything-"

"It's all right," she reassured with a smile, "I just pointed his way to that great sanctuary of male thought, the loo."

"A-level boy's gone to think?" he said, beginning to sound a little sleep, "Could be there some time there. I s'pose I should be grateful it's not Mickey though. I 'd never get back in there otherwise."

"Oi, you," she scolded, poking him with her foot.

"Stop abusing me," he complained, "You're just like you mother, you are. I didn't survive a time war to smacked around by Tyler women you know."

Rose grinned widely, "You're such a big girl."

Silence reigned for a moment, as Rose thought and the Doctor drifted towards sleep. When she spoke again, she didn't even know if he was still awake.

"Do you have any idea how many times we've nearly been killed since I met you?" she asked, frowning.

"I try not to think about it too much," he admitted, sleepily.

She chose to ignore that.

"Doesn't it strike you as a bit odd that we're still alive?"

"No, just lucky".

Rose sighed, thoughtfully, "Maybe the universe isn't as screwed up as you think. Maybe we're just meant to be here right now, having this conversation. Weird eh?"

"Hmm."

Rose looked at him, his eyes closed and peace on his too often troubled face.

"And maybe you're right," she whispered, more to herself than him, "Maybe it's all just luck. Which would make me very, very lucky, I guess."

Without thinking she leant over and kissed him softly and briefly on the lips.

"Go to sleep. I'll still be here in the morning. Always will."

She settled back in the chair and closed her eyes.

"Sweet dreams, Rose," he muttered softly.

She smiled.


End file.
